Page 47 of The Best is Yet to Cum

She jotted a few things on her notepad before responding. “When you started therapy, you shared that you almost took your life and didn’t go through with it because God sent you an angel by the name of Clinton.”

“That’s correct.”

“You said, and I quote, ‘I’d lost hope and was filled with despair until he came along with his soft kisses, magical tongue, and immaculate dick, saying everything I needed to hear.’”

“You wrote that down?”

She smiled. “I write a lot of things down, but my point is, you gave this man credit for saving your life.”

“He did.”

“If God sent him to save your life, is it out of the realm of possibility that He also sent him to be your next husband?”

“If God wanted me to be married, He would’ve made my first marriage work.”

“Maybe you chose the wrong person the first time.” She flipped through her notebook. “I have a page full of red flags you told me you ignored about Winston. Shall I read them?”

“Please don’t. I’m well aware of all the signs I ignored.”

“Your marriage didn’t work because God didn’t choose Winston for you. He tried to show you, but you didn’t listen to your gut. You chose to be hardheaded, but it’s time you take accountability for your poor decisions.”

I left Dr. Varner’s office a mess, still unsure if marriage was in my future. Although we hadn’t discussed it, I felt it was only fair to share my feelings with Clinton.

We’d driven separately to work that day because of my therapy appointment. When he arrived at my apartment that evening, I had a candlelight dinner prepared.

“Oh, this is nice. What’s the occasion?” he asked while we embraced.

“No occasion. I felt like cooking for my man.” I kissed him passionately, and when his hands began to roam, I pulled away. “There will be time for that later. You hungry?”

His hands moved from my ass to my stomach, and he gently caressed it. “I’m starving. Did you and the baby have a good day?”

“We did. Wash your hands, and I’ll make our plates.” I kissed him again before we separated.

A few minutes later, we met at the table. I made steak, roasted potatoes, and fried asparagus. To drink, he had a beer and I had water.

“This looks and smells delicious, baby. Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me. I can cook more often, but you seem to prefer eating out.”

“I don’t prefer it, but it’s what I’m used to. As a single man who worked late hours, it was easier. However, from now on, I’ll make sure the kitchen is fully stocked.”

We ate a few bites, and I watched his expression to make sure he enjoyed each one.

“How was work today?” I asked.

“Pretty lowkey. I didn’t have any meetings, so I was able to get a lot of paperwork done. How about you?”

“It was fine. The attorney I work for just wrapped up a big case and bought lunch for everyone to celebrate.”

“That was nice. How was therapy?”

My body tensed, and I prayed Clinton hadn’t noticed. “It was… interesting.”

“I’m not trying to pry, but I’m all ears if you want to share.”

I sighed and said a quick prayer in my head. “Did you hear those questions my mother asked at our party?”

“I think everyone heard her, baby.”

---